That's the Dallas (Channel 5) theme, of course. Takes you back a bit, doesn't it? Unless, just as the whole of series nine turned out to be Pamela's dream, the past 21 years turns out to be mine (what a dream, wow, the internet!) and it's still 1991. Looks in mirror, hoping to see fresh-faced youth, full of hope, unsoiled by cynicism …

No, it's definitely 2012. On screen, too. The Dallas skyline in those split-screen opening credits (so modern then, now just retro) has a few extra shiny higher-rise buildings. Bobby (Patrick Duffy), though still quite handsome, has grey hair, and terminal cancer. Jesus, what kind of comeback is that? (Though he did recover from death once before, remember?)

There's no sign of Pamela, probably for the best. She – Victoria Principal – was the first woman I ever really loved, and it might not be the same. But here's Sue Ellen (Linda Gray), looking … good, though a bit weird. She's not saying much, and when she does her face doesn't move, as if she's been cryogenically frozen from the neck upwards and they don't totally thaw her out for filming in case she wilts, or her face explodes into a cloud of dust.

And JR – Larry Hagman – himself. Is that really him, sitting in that chair? Or Father Jack? He's clinically depressed, says the nurse in the home. Clinically deceased, I'd say. Well, perhaps there's the tiniest flicker in those eyes, under those magnificent silver bushes, but it hardly looks like the oil-fired furnace that was the driving force of this show for 13 years.

There's a new generation too, because Dallas 2.0 doesn't just want to attract nostalgic forty-somethings, it needs to bring in a new audience. So meet John Ross III and Christopher, JR's and Bobby's sons respectively, plus Elena and Rebecca, their respective shiny high-rise ladies.

Chistopher, honourable and ethical, is into alternative renewable energy, methane harvested from the ocean, plus conservation. That's not right is it? Whatever next, a Ewing windfarm?

Fortunately, John Ross – scheming, deeply dodgy, a nasty piece of work (they are both their father's sons, slightly unimaginatively) – isn't interested in any of that green nonsense. Oil runs in his veins. He and Elena hit a new reserve, 2 billion barrels of the black stuff. Just one problem: it's on Southfork land, exactly where Miss Ellie said no one would ever drill.

Ha! Cue the opening of old wounds, into which salt – and oil – is rubbed. New wounds too, as Christopher and John Ross punch each other in the face, stab each other in the back, and joust. While Elena, Rebecca, Sue Ellen and the new Mrs Bobby sharpen their claws.

It's immensely enjoyable, a fabulous cauldron bubbling over with oil and sex, power and betrayal. Just as it was all those years ago. And there is a sense that, in spite of the new faces and the injection of some 21st-century pace, underneath everything, it's still the same old same old.

So, to get back involved on not? Initially I thought not. Because it felt a bit like bumping into someone you used to be with (you know, romantically) a long, long time ago. First you're flooded with nostalgia and happy memories; then you remember why it all ended. You've drifted apart and there are new things in your life (Mad Men, perhaps?).

But then, halfway through this opening episode, JR comes back from the dead. He can smell the oil his son has released from the ground, those old wounds opening up, the whiff of a new fight. It's all back on, including the old 10-gallon hat. They need to keep him that way – undead – because he is the main reason to persevere. He may have to battle for Southfork and for that oil, but he already owns the screen.

Apologies, I got carried away, leaving little room for Mrs Biggs (ITV1), which was great, with fine performances from Sheridan Smith and Daniel Mays as Mrs and Mr (Ronnie) Biggs, and especially from Adrian Scarborough as her terrifying Victorian dad. There's a lot of good drama on ITV at the moment. I'll come back to Mrs Biggs; I have a hunch the main event is yet to come.